PLAZA

by Shane M Brown

  Ethan studied one area more closely, blocking out everything except one small section of wall.

  Wait – there are two stories here. One interwoven within the other. One much older than the other.

  The hieroglyphs were crowded together. They looked garbled because there were too many. Twice as many as there should be. Between the original hieroglyphs, a second story had been added.

  Seeing the pattern, Ethan realized he could read them. What’s more, they were the answers he was searching for.

  It was amazing. It was all here. He had the answers. He knew why the Plaza was built. He knew the purpose of the Gallery. He knew why such great effort had been made to keep the site hidden!

  Most importantly of all, he understood why the wave of human sacrifices had started here. In a way, this small chamber was the reason. Ethan felt light-headed. He'd been holding his breath. He'd forgotten to keep breathing. This was all and more than he’d hoped to find.

  A disturbingly familiar sound distracted his thoughts.

  Oh, no. Not again. I must have miscounted. The Gallery has one more move to make.

  The Gallery’s barriers were shifting again. Ethan prepared himself for whatever happened.

  Sunlight.

  He saw distant sunlight in both directions. East and west. The Gallery stood wide open. The final transformation had opened all the barriers. A long, unbroken tunnel now stretched between the east and west entrances. The core chamber stood in the very center.

  It's finished. The Gallery has run its course.

  A huge silhouette cut into the sunlight to the east. Alarm surged through Ethan - a chameleon! - but he saw two smaller silhouettes break from the larger one. The shapes were human, one larger than the other, and Ethan recognized them at once. Fontana and Randerson had pushed the gold into the open tunnel.

  Ethan heard Randerson shout, 'Spader!'

  Ethan called back. 'He's here. This way!'

  The men reached Ethan in seconds, leaving the gold twenty meters up the tunnel. Ethan felt amazed to discover they were so close this entire time. With all the barriers open, the Gallery felt smaller.

  Randerson helped Spader to his feet, wincing at Spader's neck wound. Spader was coming to his senses, but unbalanced and groggy.

  Fontana looked back towards the gold. 'Where's Gordon?'

  'He didn't make it,' answered Ethan. 'Rourke shot him.'

  'Where's Rourke?' hissed Randerson.

  'He's dead too.' Ethan said. 'Crushed by a barrier.'

  'LOOK!' yelled Fontana, pointing up the east tunnel.

  Ethan spun to look.

  Water.

  Torrents of water came surging through the east entrance. In an instant, Ethan knew what Rourke had done. Somehow, he'd sabotaged the silt wall. The wall held back the only body of water large enough to cause a flood. The silt lake contained enough water to completely inundate the Plaza. Ethan saw jumbled shapes start blocking the east entrance. The entire site was washing down on top of them.

  'We need to go,' cried Randerson. 'Come on!'

  'You go,' yelled Ethan. 'I'll be right behind you!'

  'Forget about it,' countered Randerson. 'We need to get out of here. This whole place is going under.'

  Ethan shouted back, pointing at Spader, 'I'm coming. Get him out of here!'

  Fontana grabbed Spader's other arm. Half-dragging Spader between them, he and Randerson dashed towards the still unaffected west entrance.

  Ethan knew his chances of escape were short-lived. Water was encircling the Gallery. This entire place might go under, but he wasn't leaving without his prize. He glanced down the tunnel, calculating his odds. The flood waters were tossing a motorbike down the tunnel. Ethan glimpsed a wheel disappearing in the frothy wave.

  There still might be time.

  He started snapping pictures with Spader’s camera. Standing dead center in the chamber, he turned the camera a few degrees after every shot, ensuring his pictures overlapped. After four pictures, only halfway through, he glanced with alarm towards the terrifying spectacle roaring towards him. The rolling mess of debris and white water approached at breathtaking speed. Ethan took three more pictures and then sprinted, jerking the camera's lanyard over his head. He glimpsed the water bowling over Rourke's trolley. The trolley surged sideways for a second and was swallowed.

  Foam engulfed Ethan's abandoned fluorescent lamp behind him.

  Bare seconds later, the leading wave smacked Ethan's calves. Water swept into his legs. His head went under. His shoulder slammed into the floor. His face broke the foam long enough to suck down one breath. He glimpsed the west exit disappearing.

  Encircling water now flowed in both Gallery entrances, flooding the Gallery twice as quickly. In seconds, Ethan found his head swept along just inches from the ceiling. The current still carried him west. Perhaps it would carry him outside if he could avoid drowning.

  Two chambers short of being swept from the Gallery, Ethan's last pocket of air disappeared. He pushed himself off from the ceiling, swimming through the nearest archway towards the grey light.

  Just one chamber to go.

  Now he was swimming against the current. And the current was getting stronger. Realizing he had just one chance, Ethan stroked madly for the light. As the current peaked, his hands found the exit archway. He yanked himself through and into the light, kicking off the archway towards the surface. His face breached. He gulped air. Current slammed his body up against the Gallery wall.

  Oh, thank God, I made it. I swam out of there.

  Ethan checked he still had the camera. A voice called out from above, 'Here. He's here!'

  Fontana grabbed Ethan's hair. 'Quick, before the current takes him again.'

  Randerson reached down from the Gallery roof. The rising water level was just two feet short of topping the structure. 'Ethan, give me your hand.'

  Helped up, Ethan saw Spader finding his feet on the Gallery roof. A wet bandage encircled Spader's neck. The men had just gained the roof themselves.

  'Will you look at that...,' breathed Fontana.

  Standing on the edge, Ethan took in Fontana's meaning.

  Water cascaded down the Plaza’s eastern tiers like Niagara Falls. That side of the Plaza was completely decimated. Everything had washed into the bottom tier. Half of the middle tier lay underwater. Ethan could barely identity the debris as once belonging to his camp.

  Is that a helicopter?

  A metallic scraping sound confirmed Ethan's guess. Among the debris floated an overturned helicopter. The fuselage scraped steadily along the wall with the current. 'Is that your helicopter?'

  'Not ours,' said Randerson. 'I think her flying days are over.'

  Spader grabbed Fontana's arm and whispered something. Ethan wondered if the acid or Rourke's cable-tie had damaged Spader's voice. Whatever the damage, Fontana understood. After a second assessing the water, Fontana dived in right beside the grinding helicopter wreckage.

  What on earth is he doing? If he gets caught up in that debris, he'll drown. I can't even see him now.

  'What's he doing?' Ethan called to Spader.

  By answer, Spader just pointed towards the helicopter.

  Right then, the water topped the Gallery roof. It swept towards Ethan's shoes. A second later, Fontana popped up an arm's length from Ethan.

  'Help me,' barked Fontana, but Ethan already had him. Fontana hauled something to the surface. 'Randy, pull this up. It's heavy underwater.'

  Randerson dragged the long, bulky orange object from the water. Spader helped. When Fontana joined them, the water was surging knee-high and strong enough to worry Ethan’s footing. The four men clustered around Fontana's find.

  'Do it now,' Randerson yelled to Spader. 'It's on your side.'

  Spader jerked on a cord. Something hissed. The bag burst open, unfolding into something else.

  Of course, an emergency raft. Like a large orange wading pool.

  'Everyone in,' croaked Spader, the first time he'd s
poken out loud.

  Ethan fell into the raft just as the water tore his shoes from the Gallery roof.

  Two hours later

  The four men watched the police boat nose towards the silt wall.

  Two-thirds of the wall had washed away. Ethan, Spader, Fontana and Randerson sat on the remaining section. Between the men and the waterline rested the orange emergency raft.

  Ethan counted eight police on the boat. No, wait, one was Claire! Claire Hudnell stood on the boat, waving. Ethan felt incredibly relieved. Standing beside Claire was another face Ethan recognized. Libby Hudnell.

  Has Libby been caught up in all this?

  He'd completely forgotten about her balloon launching from the Plaza last week. Two other people on the boat weren't police. Are they part of Spader's team? What am I going to tell the police about Spader? This could get really ugly.

  The boat grounded less than twenty feet away. A senior-looking officer jumped down and approached. He held out his hand as Ethan stood. 'Professor March? Glad to find you alive. We doubted anyone survived after seeing your camp wash down the river. I'm Captain Oloroso.'

  'I can't really believe it myself,' said Ethan, shaking the Captain's hand.

  'Sorry we took so long. The river is full of debris. We had to untangle the propeller twice. We found these four floating downriver. Claire told us what happened.'

  Claire told him what happened? That could have so many meanings. What exactly had Claire told the policeman about Spader's team?

  Ethan tried to read the situation. Claire had stayed on the boat. Obviously the Captain had instructed her to stay put. Perhaps he wanted to hear her story confirmed by Ethan. The Captain's face was unreadable.

  Ethan took a gamble. 'Rourke's dead.'

  Oloroso seemed relieved to hear this. 'You sure? You see him die?'

  'He was decapitated. I was right there. He tried to kill me, but...well, he's dead and I'm not.'

  The Captain nodded. 'Well, your wife will be pleased to hear that. She's been calling me constantly since she received your message.'

  Message? Ethan remembered secretly dialing the sat-phone seconds before Rourke killed Nina. That seemed like weeks ago. Apparently his call had reached Maria before Kline intervened. She must be sick with worry.

  Ethan waved towards the boat. 'Have you got a sat-phone, Captain? I need to call my wife.'

  'Of course. We'll get to that. Are you OK to travel? Does anyone need medical assistance?'

  Ethan noticed Spader's two men moving on the boat. This morning, he would have thought nothing of it, but now he saw things differently. They were taking position to assault the two police officers still onboard. The third officer had climbed down and was carrying a first-aid kit towards Ethan. Ethan glimpsed Claire reach a restraining hand towards one of Spader's men. The man pushed the hand away. Claire didn't protest further. The understanding embodied in their body language told Ethan everything. Claire trusted these men. She knew what they were going to do. She didn't like it, but she wasn't ready to betray their identity yet either.

  Spader's team could easily take down these police officers. Fontana was already walking down to 'meet' the officer with the first-aid kit. Fontana might act before Spader gave any signal. The police seemed oblivious to the impending assault.

  More violence.

  Ethan spun and raised a finger to Spader. 'Wait, just wait.'

  Spader stared impassively back at Ethan. His voice was croaky, but returning. 'I can't wait, Ethan. You know that.'

  Captain Oloroso glanced suspiciously between Ethan and Spader. 'Who are these men, Professor March?'

  Spader blinked steadily at Ethan.

  'Volunteers,' called Claire from the boat. 'There wasn't enough room on the first boat. They were waiting for the next one.'

  Ethan felt a plausible story forming in his mind. He nodded. 'They came as a group. Research volunteers. Rourke killed one of their friends. They want to find his body. I've been trying to convince them to ride back with us. They can't stay here. It's not safe.'

  Oloroso nodded, addressing Spader. 'It's not safe to remain here. Who is your missing friend?'

  Spader answered painfully. 'Merrit. His name was Gordon Merrit.'

  Oloroso nodded. 'I've heard of him. I didn't know he was here. No one has contacted the station looking for him.'

  Ethan interrupted before Spader could reply. 'He answered my invitation to help with the dig. He chartered a plane. It was last minute. I wasn't even expecting him. These men came with him.'

  'Well, you can't stay here,' said Oloroso. 'The rest of this silt wall could collapse any time.'

  Ethan looked to Spader. 'Well?'

  Fontana had stopped an arm's length from the officer holding the first-aid kit. Spader approached the inspector and studied him gravely. 'Thank you for your offer, Captain Oloroso. We'd be very grateful.'

  Spader shook Oloroso’s hand before they all climbed in the boat. Ethan embraced Claire and Libby.

  'I thought you were dead,' he said, pulling back to study Claire.

  Claire shrugged. 'I thought you were locked in the Gallery.'

  They sat together. 'I was. I reached the core chamber. Just before the Plaza flooded.'

  Claire studied Ethan. 'And? Did you find your answers? Tell me something good came from all this.'

  Ethan pulled the camera from under his sodden shirt. 'Wait and see.'

  For a time, the only sound was the boat's engine.

  Merc finally spoke. 'What happened to Gordon?'

  Spader just stared over the boat's gunwale, so Ethan answered. 'Rourke shot him. I was with him. He and Rourke both died in the Gallery. They're both still in there. Down under the water.'

  Oloroso listened but didn't ask questions. Perhaps he thought there'd be time enough back at the station. The Captain suddenly reached back and took the sat-phone handset from the boat's center console. He passed it to Ethan.

  'I think this call will be for you.'

  Ethan put the phone to his ear. 'Maria? Is that you?'

  It was.

  Sixteen hours later

  Kline woke up lying on his back in the mud.

  Surprisingly, he was very comfortable. He'd crawled up the bank yesterday afternoon before passing out.

  He sat up, wincing at the pain in his ankle. The falling tower had crushed his leg. The ankle didn't seem broken, but his nerves were firing random notes of agony up his calf whenever he moved it.

  How far had the river carried him? A few kilometers, at least. He'd clung to wooden scaffolding most of the way.

  The morning sun had breached the tree line across the river. The glare had woken him.

  God, what a day yesterday had been. Those animals....

  With alarm, Kline realized he probably wasn't out of danger yet. Perhaps he should have let the river carry him further. When a natural bend swept him close to the bank, it had seemed a good time to make land. Apparently the bend had attracted other things.

  Kline crawled back to the river's edge to examine the washed up debris.

  What is this thing?

  Of course! It was the balloon-thing he'd shot at with the pistol he’d found on the guard’s body. The raft had been flying the last time Kline saw it. He found no sign of its original passengers. He'd fired at the balloon seconds before the tower collapsed.

  It seemed his shot had hit the balloon, but missed the raft. Lucky for him.

  Kline awkwardly dragged the raft in painful spurts back into the water. It grew easier once the water carried his weight. Once fully clear of the bank, he hauled himself into the raft. He lay on his back and looked at the sky.

  The current tugged the raft downriver, away from the nightmare of the last twenty-four hours. Whatever else happened, that was good enough for now.

  Chapter 20

  Eight months later

  American Museum of Natural History, New York City

  Ethan spotted Maria leading the kids back to their seats. Too much soft
drink in the car on the ride here, Maria had explained. She had been back and forward to the bathroom three times with the kids. His family had front row seats beside Claire and Libby. A little further along chatted Ben McIntosh and Abigail Astrenzi.

  Ethan stood off to one side and watched, not entirely sure how he felt. His presentation would be streamed live around the world. He'd given hundreds of lectures before, but never like this. Words couldn't easily describe the discovery, nor the human sacrifice paid to unlock the Plaza's secrets.

  He’d labored over the speech. He owed it to Joanne and Nina. He owed it to his family and to himself.

  Thinking of Joe and Nina drew Ethan's eyes to the veiled display case. He'd unveil the contents to conclude his speech. Curiosity had drawn several people towards the shrouded case.

  One man stood closer than the others. The man's familiar posture caught Ethan's attention. That and his scarred neck.

  Wait, he wouldn't dare show up here.

  Spader. Standing bold as brass in the foyer.

  He won't be alone. Where are the others?

  Ethan scanned the hall and found them. Randerson and Fontana hovered beside the display floor entrance. Dale and Merc sat in the back row, closest to the exit. All four men watched Ethan steadily. They covered both the hall’s exits.

  Without drawing attention to himself, Ethan wove through the folding chairs to reach Randerson and Fontana.

  Fontana spoke first. 'How's it going, chief? You draw quite a crowd.'

  Ethan ignored Fontana and spoke to Randerson. 'Are any of you armed?'

  'No.'

  'Does Fontana have a gun?'

  'No.'

  'Are you sure?'

  'The metal detectors would have gone off,' interrupted Fontana. 'What's your problem? I thought we were all friends now. Seems you forgot to send me an invitation. You hurt my feelings.'